


Sickfic

by Goonipers



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bad Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 23:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16073753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goonipers/pseuds/Goonipers
Summary: After Lord Vetinari falls ill, it's up to Drumknott to take care of him.





	Sickfic

 

His Lord Vetinari groaned, and fell forward in the carriage. There was a horrible spewing sound, and his left foot got wet.

 

"Sir?" he asked tentatively.

 

"What?" he snapped back. "I'm not well."

 

Rufus went into shock. "Well -- it's not like you to become unwell, sir."

 

"I can't help it," he replied, reaching for his handkerchief. "It was that prawn cocktail I ate at that conference from the buffet, I'm sure of it."

 

He was sick again, and heaved.

 

Rufus did nothing but twist his hands in his old robe until they got to the Palace. His Lordship climbed unsteadily out of the carriage, and started to sway. Rufus leapt down, and steadied him.

 

A man came forward. Rufus said, "Help his Lordship into the Palace while someone else cleans up the sick. He's not well."

 

Rufus went back for their bags, paperwork, and scrolls. He left the carriage door open to air somewhat.

 

When he got in, his Lordship was trying to climb the stairs -- all the way up seven flights by himself, by the looks of things -- and hanging heavily onto the banister.

 

Rufus readjusted the top scroll, and dumped his pile onto the nearest busying clerk. "Take everything upstairs at once."

 

It was slow going. He helped his Lordship up seven flights, mostly by dragging him, until they got to the Oblong Office. His Lordship sat heavily down in his wooden chair, and stumbled his legs into the dog's basket.

 

"Leave me," he ordered. "No, actually, fetch water. I don't feel well at all." With that, he stood upright, and hurried to the toilet door. It was a long corridor after that, and Rufus worried that he wouldn't make it in time.

 

While he was gone, Rufus had a nip of brandy to make him feel better. Then another. Then some more. Then he poured half the bottle to stop his hands from shaking.

 

Supposing it was poison, and his Lordship died? What then? He didn't know if he could live with himself. He sat down in his Lordship's chair, and thought back to what his Mum did when he was unwell. She tucked him into bed, sang him songs, and patted his forehead and cheeks with a wet towel. He was a man. He didn't know if he was up for it.

 

He thought about summoning another clerk to brainstorm with him, when it occurred to him that he should cancel all of Lord Vetinari's appointments. He went into his office via the side door, and made swift work of it.

 

When he returned, his Lordship was back, and looking waxy and pale. Paler than normal, which shouldn't be possible, with a grey and green tinge to his cheeks. There were shadows under his eyes inside the bags, and he looked tired.

 

"You should go to bed, sir," he said.

 

"No, Drumknott. I have work to do."

 

"Well, you never know, it could be contagious. I've cancelled all of your appointments."

 

"Very well." He slumped back, and rubbed his temples. Then he was sick with water into the bin. Screws of paper floated to the surface. "You might... ah, have a point."

 

He stood up, and Rufus gave him his cane. He stumbled out the door, and along the corridor towards his bedroom. He liked to sleep near the job.

 

Rufus tidied his paperwork, refilled his inkwell, and left everything nice and neat for the morning. If it was really the prawn cocktail, he'll be over it in a day.

 

He let himself down the corridor, and into his bedroom. "Sir?"

 

"In here," said Lord Vetinari from his en suite bathroom. In there, the walls were a horrible pale peach colour, and the wallpaper was shells. "I think... I believe I need a new roll of toilet paper, please."

 

Rufus went to fetch some. He tucked the loose end in, and rolled it through the open door without looking. There were the sounds of someone standing up, and scraping their cane along the floor to reach it.

 

"Have you got it?"

 

"No, Drumknott. I haven't. Close your eyes, if you must."

 

Rufus shut his eyes, and wandered into the bathroom. It stunk to high Dunmanifestin. He was whacked across the shins with the cane.

 

"Down there, to the left, if you please."

 

Rufus felt down, and around. Someone sat back down, and got on with it. He groaned, mostly from embarrassment from the sounds of it. Rufus reached to the right, and found the toilet paper, which he handed over.

 

"We shall never speak of this again," he was told coldly and not sharply.

 

Rufus peeked a bit at the floor to see himself out. He shut the door, and leaned on it. That had been a close brush with the assassin of the man.

 

***

 

Rufus waited with equipment he had fetched until Lord Vetinari stumbled out, half naked, with his robe tied around his middle. He sat on the bed, grey chest hair heaving.

 

He looked old, around twenty years older than he should be. He was supposed to be in his fifties, like Vimes.

 

He got into bed, removed his robe, and draped it over the top side of himself.

 

Rufus couldn't imagine fluffing his pillows. So he poured him a glass of water from the jug, and set it on his bedside table on the coaster. He'd already pulled all the books away, and generally tidied his room up. It was all in the Oblong Office to sort out tomorrow. He'd even tied all his paperclips together, so he knew where to find a new one.

 

"Thank you, Drumknott. Your... work is invaluable." He coughed. "But I believe I need a sick bowl."

 

"Sir?"

 

"I have one already that Lupine Wonse gave me to once. When I had to use the toothbrush."

 

Rufus winced. "When you had to shove it down your throat to stop yourself from swallowing too much poison? The older clerks told me about that."

 

"Yes, that. It's in the memorial room as it once was a gift from Ephebe." His tone told him that he didn't like it much. "It contains a fresco of some Olympian fighters. Not very peaceful like at all. I used that. It's better than that bucket Vimes gave to him during the arsenic attempt."

 

"Yes, sir. The handle came off. I'll see to it." He found the memorial room without incident, and found it tucked away amongst tissue paper. It was very large and heavy earthenware. It did depict Olympian athletes throwing the javelin and so forth. He wondered what he had against it.

 

He hefted it back. He placed it on the floor, near the bed, and Lord Vetinari sicked up his water glass into it.

 

"Do I have to empty it, sir?" Rufus was dreading doing that.

 

"No, it's got enough room until morning. Actually--" He got out of bed, and hurried back into the loo, farting strongly.

 

Rufus blinked, slowly. He'd just seen him naked. That was not particularly anything he wanted to see again. He was too old, too thin, and too weak. Rufus liked young, strong, athletic men. Except that they didn't have enough power. Rufus was ambitious like that, much more ambitious than a porno star.

 

The door shut from the inside. It was something to do with the hinges. It bolted.

 

The bolt scraped open. "Actually," he called through a centimetre of open door, "I need help. Stay."

 

Rufus hung around. He opened the window, rearranged potpourri, and fluffed up pillows like his Mum showed him to. He asked for the water jug to be refilled.

 

The maids had a bell system, part engineering, part magic where you could call them via a touch of a button. The buttons were part of the wall near the lamp as Lord Vetinari liked to stand up to use them, and connected to the maids area via bells.

 

The maid, Mildred Easy returned, bobbed a curtsey, and poured her flagon into it.

 

"What's that?" she said, pointing at the Ephebian urn.

 

"That's his Lordship's sick bowl," he replied. "Don't ask. I like Ephebian men."

 

She giggled. "His Lordship likes you, actually," she said back. "You've been his secretary for several years now." She left.

 

Rufus panted. No, he did not want to think about staff rumours, which started with the many gay Dark Clerks that they had, and obviously finished with Vimes and Captain Carrot having late night meetings with him.

 

Lord Vetinari returned, gaunt and pale. He sat down on the bed, shaking.

 

Rufus tucked him in. Vetinari gave him a weird look. He sat up on his pillows, and his hand reached automatically for a report.

 

"No," said Rufus. "You're too unwell. Get some rest."

 

The hand remained. "I have work to do."

 

"No, sir. You're to go to bed early. Then you'll be all right in the morning."

 

"I won't be well with morning. This lasts several days, if it's that vomiting bug. I've had it before."

 

Rufus emptied some herbal remedy into his water glass, and handed it over, swilling it about to mix it. His Lordship drank.

 

He took his hand back, and dove it under the covers. Both hands. They covered his groin, judging by the way the blanket moved. He blushed.

 

"I'm cold," he complained, blush tingeing his chest.

 

"I'll fetch you another blanket, sir," began Rufus, but his Lordship grabbed him quickly.

 

"No, I need someone else to warm me up."

 

Rufus' mouth hung open. "Really, sir?"

 

Vetinari shifted over. It was a narrow bed, much too narrow for two people. His Lordship had a suite downstairs that he used for seamstresses, unless a member of state was in it, like an ambassador. There had been rumours.

 

Rufus stood still. "I have to think about it, sir. I was expecting to be your Mum tonight."

 

Lord Vetinari laughed, briefly. He flung the bedcover back, exposing his hip and leg. "Please join me... Rufus Drumknott."

 

"No, sir. You're feverish. I shan't impose."

 

His mood changed, capricious. "Are you suggesting that I'm delusional?"

 

"No, sir. You're not well, that's all." And you're not my type. You're my boss. My Lordship.

 

He flung the bedcovers back. "That will be all. Do not tell."

 

Rufus hurried back to his room, and shut the door. He locked it, although what he was scared of he didn't know. Well, apart from death. But that happened a lot daily in Ankh-Morpork, growing up.

 

He changed, and got into bed, head in his arms, on his back. He was dreadfully worried, and it gnawed inside his stomach, like he, too, would be puking his own guts out all night.

 

He got up after about half an hour. He lit his candlestick, and unlocked the door. He crept to his Lordship's room. He opened the door, and lit the main lamp.

 

His Lordship's eyes fluttered open. He looked surprised. He tried to sit up, but his face was sweat sodden.

 

"Sir?"

 

"Ah. You've returned."

 

Rufus Drumknott locked the door, and lay his candlestick down. He hurried to the bed, and took a deep breath.

 

"You're not buggering me, sir. I like oral."

 

"Indeed. That makes two of us. I like it all ways. Are you sure you don't want to fuck me?"

 

Rufus swallowed. "It'll be a bit mucky what with your diarrhoea." He stood by his point. "I like it oral."

 

"Yes. Enough said." Vetinari flipped up his bedcovers, and Rufus got in. It was cool and sweaty.

 

Vetinari's eyes darkened, and he blinked. "Well, do something," he snapped.

 

Rufus didn't fancy kissing that goatee much. It was obvious that he dyed it, and cut it himself too. One bit was lopped off a bit too much one side, and a barber wouldn't make that mistake.

 

He rested a hand on Vetinari's chest, and kissed his cheek. He wiped his face with the end of his nightshirt. He kissed it again.

 

"Are you trying to be my Mum again?" asked Vetinari, archly.

 

"Sorry, sir, but I never envisioned us like this, not once, ever. You're my boss."

 

Vetinari grabbed him strongly around the middle, and held him close. He snuffled into his shoulder, and bit his earlobe. He fondled Rufus through his robe, and hauled it off, leaving him in his sleeves and night-shirt.

 

Rufus took it off, and dropped it on the floor. He raised an eyebrow, and shivered as it was cool.

 

Vetinari fondled his buttocks, and lifted his nightshirt to his surprise. He reached down and grabbed his deflated cock.

 

"Sir?"

 

"Hurry up, and do something. Quickly."

 

Rufus thought of his young men from porn. He liked both to read it and view it. He thought about an Ephebian captain with his young, naughty, Klatchian sailor that he read the other day. He just been whipped, and the captain was attending to his wounds with a rough massage and some balm.

 

He got it up. Vetinari grinned, and began administering him. He asked Rufus Drumknott to sit up in the bed, on the pillows, which he did so.

 

Rufus shifted onto his hip awkwardly, and let Vetinari start to blow him. He reached around his bulbous head with both lips, and slid onto his cock. He fondled his balls with one hand.

 

It was weird, seeing that goatee suck his cock so gratefully. He bobbed down, and came up for air, through his nostrils. He bobbed again.

 

Rufus refrained from doing anything stupid, like winding his hands in his hair. It was too short, anyway. It was about two centimetres long, or looked like it. Rufus was pretty sure he cut it himself with nail scissors. He'd heard the maids comment.

 

Rufus hummed to himself, and set Vetinari off, humming the Hedgehog Song. His throat warbled. The vibrations felt tingly, and his head shot sort of cum. He sighed, and remained upright.

 

Vetinari got off, swallowing.

 

"Er, that wasn't it, sir. That was just pre-come."

 

"Really? I wasn't to know." He got back on, and swallowed up to his balls. He stopped fondling, and dove his nose among the pubic hair. Then he came off again, gagging and gasping.

 

"So sorry. I haven't had a boy for so long," he coughed. "I don't think I can do that any more."

 

"It's OK, sir. I'm amazed you can do it at all," he said encouragingly.

 

Vetinari went back to wetly playing his balls. He nosed the head, and licked at the slit.

 

Rufus moaned. "Again."

 

He licked at the slit, leaving saliva there. He went head first again to half way, and made a fist. He jacked off Rufus at the base, and bobbed up and down on his head. Rufus came.

 

Vetinari held it all in his mouth, this time. After Rufus was done, quietly, he licked up the shaft, and spat the cum out into the Ephebian urn on the floor, almost pushing Rufus out of bed.

 

Rufus blushed immediately at the thought of the maids emptying that tomorrow. He tried to get out of bed.

 

"I'll better empty that, sir," he said. Vetinari hauled him back into bed.

 

"Now, it's my turn," he purred. He was naked already, and half-hard by moonlight.

 

The lamp flickered. Rufus Drumknott got back into bed, and sank down to cock level.

 

He moved his mouth onto the head, and lapped around and on the slit.

 

"That's it? That's what I did to you!" he grumbled.

 

Rufus grabbed it, and played with it around. It rose up, stronger. He kissed the head, and down the shaft where it was veiny. He pressed his thumb against the base, and handled it up to the head again.

 

"This is all very interesting, but I would like to get off sometime tonight, if you may."

 

Rufus balanced his head on one hand, and had a go at bobbing. He held his breath, and pressed the cock into his mouth. He tried not to bite, although it was tempting, and he wondered if Lady Margolotta ever did.

 

He hummed. He tried a song, and got:

 

"I prefer sheet music, if you must know. Stop doing that. I did it to you because you seem to like it."

 

He got off. "Sorry, sir."

 

"It's Havelock now that we're in bed together. Or Vetinari. I don't mind which."

 

"Yes, sir." He had another go at bobbing, but it danced out of his way. He grabbed it, and led it in. He sucked until his cheeks went hollow.

 

"That's it. Suck on it like it's a lollypop. How many techniques do you have?"

 

"More than you, sir," dared Rufus. He went down, and sucked in hollow towards the base. It tickled the back of his throat. He had a lot less than people knew.

 

He fondled his balls, or to be more precise, one ball. On the other side, the ballsack was empty. So it was true that someone stabbed him once. He rubbed his hand along his taint.

 

That got a reaction. He mewed. So he pressed into the bone. Rufus came up for air, fondling his taint. Vetinari's hand landed on the back of his head, and pressed him face first into his groin. He had a cock poke him in the eye.

 

Rufus struggled to get off, but the cock weeped and spewed pre-come. It really got into his eye. Rufus had to stop, and wipe it off on his nightshirt again.

 

He checked, and readjusted his vision. Vetinari looked bored.

 

He put a hand to his own cock, and got himself off. "That was very entertaining, Rufus Drumknott," he drawled sarcastically.

 

"It was the cock in my eye," he explained.

 

"No, it was everything! If you're inexperienced, you should tell me. You found one nice spot."

 

"No, sir," he said hotly. "You should tell me what you like. Then I can practise it."

 

"Anal."

 

"No, thanks." He shuddered. "I'm not putting my cock up there. You'll just be jumping off to go to the toilet."

 

"Speaking of which..." Vetinari got out of the other side of bed, came round, and slapped him. "That's what I think of your officing skills. There's something called OCD, you know, and I'm sorry if you have it. My room was perfectly fine until you went through. Where is everything?"

 

"In your office," spluttered Rufus, rubbing the mark. It had hurt. He had envisioned tucking Vetinari into bed later, and sneaking back to his own apartment.

 

Vetinari held his hand. "I'm sorry I hit you," he said stiffly. "But I don't feel well today." He sat down on Rufus' lap, and tried to get back into bed that way.

 

Rufus let him. He snuggled down in the covers, and turned over. "I'll leave you to clear up."

 

"Don't you want to wear a nightshirt, sir?"

 

He waved a wand highly. "Yes, if you must," he said exasperatedly.

 

Rufus went through some drawers before the lamp burnt down completely, and found some nightshirts. He held one up. "Will this do?"

 

"Yes." Vetinari was still turned away from him.

 

Rufus snuck up on the man, and rammed it over his head. He fled.

 

He had forgotten his dressing gown, and his own cum in that wretched urn. Well, he'll wake early in the morning, and deal with it then.

 

He went back to his room, and flung shut the door.

 

***

 

It was the next morning. Rufus' alarm went off at five, an hour earlier. He hoped to catch his Lordship unawares.

 

He showered, got dressed in that awful mimicry robe again that they all wore, and crept along the corridor.

 

Mildred Easy walked out of his Lordship's room. "Hello, Mr Drumknott. He's awfully quiet today. He says he won't be well enough to work."

 

"Oh. I see. Is he up already?"

 

"Every morning, bright and shine."

 

Rufus walked in to see his Lordship shaving. He had foam everywhere, and he was hanging onto the basin top with his other hand to steady himself.

 

"Come to clear up, hmmm? I did that."

 

Rufus tapped his heels together. "I'm sorry, sir, about what happened. I'll try again later... when you feel better."

 

"When you have no experience in the matter?" He breathed off foam.

 

"You can teach me, sir!"

 

"No. I prefer an experienced hand. Still, I have my seamstresses... and tailor boys." He shaved under the chin. "You're still hired, by the way. I have need of a fine secretary."

 

Rufus breathed out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Yes, sir." He bowed, and backed off.

 

"Your dressing gown is on the chair. I gather that sometimes you used to breakfast in it. No doubt Miss Easy recognised it."

 

"Oh, god, sir. Please don't spread malicious lies about me just because I was no good."

 

"I'm not that sort of person," he snapped, and almost cut himself. "You must realise that."

 

He shrugged. "Sometimes people do things, sir. I wouldn't want my name to be tarnished."

 

"Name not tarnished, done! I would shake on it, except that I'm shaving. Damn!" He shaved part of his goatee off. "I wonder if some of the dye will stick back on..."

 

Rufus went to the Oblong Office, and tidied up the mail. He fetched a newspaper, and lay it open at the crossword. Thankfully, his name wasn't in it.

 

He went along the long corridor to the public toilets, and then trailed back to his Lordship's bathroom. He stocked up toilet rolls.

 

"Here, sir."

 

"Oh, gods, don't remind me. That was so embarrassing yesterday. I almost had to use my cane as a plunger."

 

"Is there anything else, sir?"

 

"No, that will be all."

 

THE END

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
